Bright Future Ahead
by E. J. Morgan
Summary: The first time they meet by chance, Gideon knows this special little boy will do great things one day. He also feels they're bound to run into each other again someday...


9

 **Bright Future Ahead**

Special Agent Jason Gideon was perched on a damp and uncomfortable bench in Virginia Park, by the small but cozy playground, listening to the children screaming in joy and trying to figure out what he should do today. It was still early and he had lots of time to kill.

As few and far between his free days like this were, he knew he should be very grateful to have gotten Sunday off. And yet, he wasn't. As a matter of fact, he almost wished he were back in the basement office with his work partner and best friend, Special Agent David Rossi, chasing after monsters and working 18 hours a day. That way, at least, he wouldn't have to think about his private life – or better: the lack thereof.

As he watched, a little girl of about four years old with her curly blond hair tied up in two long ponytails kicked a ball towards him, and before he could move away, it hit him square in the chest. The small girl squeaked in horror and ran away, hiding behind a tree. Her mother, a rather delicate woman in her late twenties, quickly scooped her up before coming up to him, apologizing rapidly.

"I'm so sorry, sir. She didn't mean it; she just hasn't learnt to coordinate the kicks that well yet."

"It's fine." – He said, trying hard not to frighten the little one who was hiding her face in her mother's T-shirt.

"Sophie… Is there something you want to say to the nice man?" – She asked, shaking her a bit to get her attention.

The little girl, apparently called Sophie peeked out from her cocoon and smiled a charming smile.

"I'm sowwy." – She said finally, nodding her head as if coming to a conclusion in a very confusing matter after much debate. – "I will kick the other way."

Gideon returned the smile, ignoring the wet and muddy spot that now decorated his normally perfectly white dress shirt. He should have changed out of his work clothes after leaving the office anyway.

"It's all right, young lady. It was actually a very nice kick." – He said and was pleased to see her beaming at the praise.

Soon, mother and daughter were gone with a wave of goodbye and the FBI agent was left alone with his musings again. It didn't take long for his thoughts to turn into a darker direction: he could be there on the playground enjoying himself with his own little son, Stephen, playing tag or hide and seek just like these fortunate parents were doing. But he wasn't because he had screwed up royally; just like he always did. He had screwed up the best thing he'd ever had in his life: his family. And now he was sitting here alone, looking on as other, normal families laughed and cheered when their toddler caught a ball for the first time or when the kindergarten-aged girl managed to conquer the climber alone. And he was-

He heard a loud 'thump' followed by a sharp yelp right behind him. As he turned around to investigate the source, there was an annoyed huff that sounded suspiciously like someone saying 'damn'. But it couldn't be, could it? Since the unfortunate person having been pulled down onto the ground by an enormous book that was entirely too much for him to carry around was just a little boy of about six by the looks of him.

"Hey, Kid?" – He said carefully so that he wouldn't frighten the angry little boy. – "You all right?" – He stood up slowly to offer help.

The boy looked at him and nodded.

"Yeah… It's just… this book is _soooo_ heavy!" – He whined, glaring daggers at the offending object, as if willing it to suddenly sprout wings and fly off on its own.

Gideon swallowed a smile, not wanting to hurt the kid's feelings by having him think he was laughing at his 'accident'.

"Want some help?"

"Ahm… yeah, sure. If it's no problem…"

"Not at all." – He assured and lifted the book, freeing the child who seemed to be trapped under it. – "Wow, that's really heavy. Hmm… 'Research Methods and Statistics in Cognitive and Clinical Psychology'… That's a great title!" – The boy flashed a million-watt smile. – "… for a college student." – The smile disappeared, making way for a defensive posture.

"I'll go to college some day!" – The small boy said, standing and straightening his clothes as much as possible. Which didn't mean a lot of improvement; he was covered in mud and grass. Seeing that trying to make himself presentable was a futile effort, the boy shrugged. – "I'm pretty smart, you know." – He continued, looking up at the man in front of him.

His long brown bangs fell into his eyes and he swapped them away irritatedly.

"I'm sure you are." – Said Gideon quickly in a calming manner. – "You seem to be." – He added, seeing the disbelief on the boy's face.

"I do?" – The little one asked uncertainly. – "Some people say I look like a pipe-cleaner with eyes…"

Gideon had to work hard not to burst out laughing at the mental image. It was true though: the boy was way too skinny and had long arms and legs that seemed to be dangling somewhat uncoordinated. That, combined with his too-big owlishly blinking brown eyes and the mop of unruly brownish hair on the top of his head was… adorable. Yep. Just plain adorable.

However, he was sure the kid didn't want to hear that, so he schooled his expression into a semi-serious one as he asked:

"Who said that?"

The kid shrugged.

"Just people…"

The small one seemed so dejected that Gideon felt the needed to cheer him up somehow.

"So, you're interested in Psychology?" – He asked, hoping to change the obviously painful subject.

"Yep!" – The enthusiastic reply told him he had succeeded. – "And Mathematics and Physics and Sociology and Criminology and History and…" – The boy went on and on about subjects he liked and wanted to study in the future, claiming he would be a professor in all of these. And more. – "… and Astronomy and Technology and-"

"Wow." – Interrupted him Gideon because he was certain they'd be standing here until midnight if he didn't. – "You have a wide range of interests!"

"That I have! And I want to be a professor before I'm 30!" – Declared the youngster completely seriously. – "That means I only have another 21 years and three month to accomplish it and…"

The kid started his speech again but the FBI agent was too stunned to listen. So, that would make the boy nearly nine years old now…? That seemed impossible! He was so small! Maybe he just couldn't do the math properly…

"Little one… How old are you?"

"I'll be nine in three months!" – Said the boy proudly. – "And I can do lots of things that people say I'm too young for… For example I can read really quickly and speak a lot and I can drive a car… oops… You won't tell that anyone, right?" – He narrowed his eyes suspiciously. – "You can't because I told you that in confidence and that means it's a secret and even lawyers and police officers can't use it against me." – He explained. – "Because even if I'm smart I'm not allowed to drive a car but it's not my fault I sometimes need to…"

Gideon needed a few seconds to catch up. Too much information and too rapidly…

"Ahm… Why would you need to drive?" – He asked finally.

The little one looked down shyly and mumbled something unintelligible. They stood in silence for a while, before the boy asked out of the blue:

"Do you have children?"

The FBI agent was taken aback by the question but tried not to show it.

"Ahm… Yes. I have a son. He's nearly 13." – He said, leading the boy towards the bench, having come to the conclusion he wasn't about to go away and leave him to sulk alone, so they might as well sit down and make themselves comfortable. - "His mother and I… we broke up. Two months ago. He's angry with me…" – He didn't have a clue why he was telling the kid all that, since he never talked about his private life with anyone; not even with David Rossi. But now that he had begun, he didn't seem to be able to stop… - "I believe he's right. I was always working, never with them… He won't talk to me now."

The boy nodded his head, looking thoughtful.

"I know that feeling. I used to be angry with my father too." – He admitted. – "But then I realized… It's not his fault. It's just what it is."

"He moved away too?" – Gideon guessed.

The child hung his head sadly.

"He left when I was six years old. Never heard about him again." – Seeing the pitying expression on Gideon's face, he quickly added: - "It's fine though. I can't really remember him all that well, because he was never with us anyway…"

"Stephen… My son… He's not talking to me." – Again, he didn't know why he said that. Somehow, this little boy was a great company and a good listener.

The boy, with all the wisdom of his nearly nine years, nodded his head in understanding.

"I guess he's waiting for you to make the first move." – He suggested.

"What do you mean? I tried, he didn't want to…"

"Did you tell him it's not his fault you left? That leaving his mother didn't mean you want to leave him too?"

"Ahm…" – Gideon thought back to the mostly one-sided conversations he'd had with his almost teenage son lately. He had said many things. But no… he hadn't told his son that. – "Not exactly with these words…" – He admitted reluctantly. – "But why would he think I want to leave _him_!? This makes no sense!"

"To him, it does. You did leave, actually." – Pointed out the small boy, as he sat on the bench, legs dangling in the air. He was also watching the other children on the playground with a longing expression. – "Seems weird, doesn't it?" – He asked suddenly, motioning towards the people all around the park.

"What?"

"Seeing others be so carefree. So… normal… I like coming here to read but sometimes I feel more like a freak than anything when I see… _them_."

Gideon regarded the small child for a moment. He seemed so lost… so alone…

"Where's your mom? Does she know you're here?"

"Well… No, she doesn't. Not really… I told her but…"

"But…?"

"I don't want to talk about it!"

The FBI agent held up his hands in surrender.

They sat next to each other on the bench, with the huge book between them, not talking, just watching the activity around them. Normal people going about their normal lives: the woman who was running her third round while listening to music with her headphones. The two elderly ladies walking their dogs together, talking a mile a minute. The man wearing an expensive suit, nervously checking his watch every two minutes and walking up and down, obviously waiting for someone. The children running around, climbing, playing in the sand and screaming in delight. His little companion didn't look like he belonged with them, to tell the truth.

Actually, he looked troubled.

"Everything all right?" – Gideon asked after about twenty minutes.

"Yeah. I think I need to go home though; it's time for..."

"For what?"

"For me to go home." – The small boy said too quickly then jumped down from the bench. He reached out to scoop the book up but his new friend stopped him.

"I'll carry it for you." – Seeing the indecision on the boy's face, he added: - "It is quite heavy…"

This logic couldn't be argued so, after a second or so, the little one nodded and they started towards the nearest bus stop.

"I always take the bus." – He explained unnecessarily.

Gideon smiled.

"When you're not driving, I take it?"

The boy looked up cheekily.

"I don't know what you're talking about."

"Of course you don't. And isn't it a bit dangerous for you to travel alone?"

"Some people would say it's dangerous to talk to strangers." – The boy pointed out. – "And yet I've been talking to you."

"Point taken." – The small boy was definitely bold, Gideon had to give him that.

They got on the bus and took seats next to each other for the ten-minute ride. The child lived at the other end of the city and Gideon found it absolutely impressive that he had made this distance just to read in a park. The boy wasn't ordinary, that was for sure.

"That's my stop."

They got off and walked a few more minutes with Gideon carrying the book and taking in everything. It was a nice neighborhood. The houses were all well-kept and they all looked somewhat the same, with an open front lawn and with family cars parking in front of them. Many residents were mowing the grass and some waved at the little boy happily as they passed.

Finally, the eight-year-old came to a stop by one of the houses.

"That's me." – He said. – "I guess-"

They could hear the door opening and a woman wearing a pink nightgown and white, fluffy slippers appeared on the porch. She looked very disheveled and somewhat confused.

"Baby…? What is it?" – She asked in a shaky voice.

Gideon looked between the woman and the little boy, instantly recognizing her as the mother. She had the same hair color and pale complexion. Other than that though, there wasn't much that suggested she was a mother at all…

The kid took a deep breath and answered in a way you'd speak to a young child.

"Mom… I'm talking to a friend but I'll come inside soon. Go back into the house, please…"

"But… I'm waiting for the mailman!" – She insisted, stubbornly planting her feet on the threshold, being very careful not to step on the tiles as if they could bite off her toes. – "He was supposed to come already…"

The boy refused to meet Gideon's eyes as he answered.

"Mom, it's Sunday. There's no mail today." – He reminded her with a sigh that suggested it wasn't the first time he'd explained that. – "Just please, go back inside and lie down. I'll be there in a minute to give you your meds…"

"I don't need meds! I'm perfectly fine!" – She said but eventually did as she'd been told and closed the door behind herself.

The FBI agent opened his mouth but he was beaten to it when the boy snapped.

"Don't say anything, all right!? Just… don't. It's fine. We're fine. I can take care of things." – Gideon had no idea who the boy was trying to convince: his new friend or himself. But he seemed to want to explain more: - "She's somewhat disoriented now but once she'll have her afternoon meds, she'll fall asleep and then she'll only wake for dinner. It's not a big deal."

"Kid-"

"She just doesn't like it when I leave because she can't tell the time and whenever she remembers she has a son, she panics if I'm not around."

"What do you mean 'whenever she remembers'?"

The kid shrugged.

"She's schizophrenic. Sometimes, she doesn't recognize me, that's all."

The FBI agent felt nauseous just to think what the boy must be going through, living without a father and with a mother who needed help looking after herself instead of the other way around. So, here the little one was, at eight years old, talking to his ill mother like he was the responsible parent of the two.

As if reading the adult's thought, the boy said:

"She has good days. She's not always like that at all." – He didn't sound too convincing but Gideon nodded anyway, humoring him. – "I think I need to go now. Thanks for helping with the book."

The FBI agent wanted to say many things, like offer his help and try to find a solution for the family, but as stubborn as he already knew the child was, he suspected it wouldn't be taken well. The kid probably really believed he could do this on his own, and wouldn't want an outsider – someone he didn't even really know – to come and change everything for him.

"You're welcome." – Was all he said in the end. – "I probably ought to go as well. Lots to do…" – He had not planned anything for the day and if the boy's expression was anything to go by, he knew it very well too.

Still, the almost nine-year-old offered an understanding smile, gratefulness radiating off him for far more than just carrying a book.

The small one then waved and started towards the house, precariously balancing his burden in his arms so as not to fall again.

Just as he had managed to kick the door open, Gideon suddenly remembered they hadn't even introduced themselves.

"What's your name?" – He called out before the child could disappear inside.

The boy turned back in surprise. Apparently, he had forgotten about names too.

"I'm Spencer. Spencer Reid." – He answered just before the door closed after him.

He hadn't asked for his new friend's identity, as if it didn't matter at all. And, Gideon realized with a jolt, it really didn't: the inexplicable connection they both felt was much deeper than names. Somehow, he was sure he'd meet the boy again someday.

 _11 years later:_

Gideon had just finished his guest lecture at Caltech about the new science he had helped create and that had been lately recognized officially as well: profiling. He wasn't sure that a lot of students had understood what he'd been talking about, or even if they'd been interested at all. Granted, it wasn't an easy subject; you needed to have an understanding in far more than just one area of study. But there was someone who had been absolutely engaged and fascinated by every word he'd uttered: the young student had answered all his questions and had even willingly offered some of his own ideas on the still ongoing case Gideon had presented them as an example. Ideas that might just have solved the case for him…

As the auditorium was slowly emptying while the students left one by one, Gideon noticed the brown-haired, tall and lanky young man unsurely lingering near the front desk, not quite approaching him but also not looking like he was about to leave anytime soon.

"Did you find the lecture interesting?" – He asked, hoping to start a conversation. Someone as talented as this young man was definitely deserved his undivided attention.

The boy looked somewhat startled at having been addressed, but nodded nonetheless.

"Very much so." – He said eagerly. His long bangs fell into his eyes and he swapped them away with a swift, irritated movement. This gesture in itself reminded Gideon of something… but he wasn't sure what; it had been a very long time ago. It just somehow felt familiar.

"Are you interested in Psychology?" – He asked, doing his best to ignore the funny feeling of déjà vu he was suddenly experiencing for no apparent reason whatsoever.

"I'm interested in a lot of things!" – The young man answered. – "Mathematics, Physics, Biology, Chemistry…" – He counted them off on his fingers and Gideon was starting to feel dizzy with a long-buried memory. – "… and Philosophy and Psychology. I'd like to do something that help people. Those who are in need. Who-"

"What's your name?" – The FBI agent interrupted, since the student didn't seem to have a need to breathe and he couldn't wait to find out if his theory about him was correct…

"Oh!" – The young man seemed somewhat surprised by the question. – "Why, I'm Spencer. Spencer Reid."

"Spencer… It's nice to meet you." – The 'again' was left unsaid, though they both knew it belonged there. – "I'm Jason Gideon."

 _The End._


End file.
